


Petals Blooming in the Dark

by psuedo118



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Lesbian Romance, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 00:18:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7336957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psuedo118/pseuds/psuedo118
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lord Merton died sometime in the final season, Isobel never married him. Instead Violet consoled her and declared her love. Isobel moved into the Dowager House to live with Violet as her companion. A vignette of their lives as they reflect on their love for one another and how it got them to where they are now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Petals Blooming in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [monsterintheballroom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterintheballroom/gifts).



> monsterintheballroom, I know it’s a bit later than anticipated, but I hope you like it anyway!

“If I had a flower for every time I thought of you… I could walk through my garden forever.”  
Alfred Tennyson

As Violet makes her way through her garden, she wonders at the manner in which things have changed. Not even a full year prior she had been in absolute anguish. The woman that she adored was on the precipice of marrying someone else. Violet had been fond of Lord Merton, far less so of his sons, but she had been willing to step aside for Isobel’s happiness. And now, she thought to herself as she admired the soft petals of the bloom in her hand, she had everything she never dared to dream of. Every night she lay beside a woman who held her heart and soul. Who on earth would have thought after that first disastrous meeting, of “You can call me ‘Dowager Countess’ and I shall call you ‘Mrs Crawley’” that they would end up here, together as simply ‘Violet’ and ‘Isobel’ and so very gloriously happy. She continues in the garden as Spratt toddles behind her, basket at the ready as she agonises over the selection before her. The garden is flush with new blooms, splashes of colour and brightness at her fingertips. She has Spratt accompany her into the garden nearly weekly to gather this basket of blooms together for Isobel. She does it when Isobel leaves to got to the hospital for the weekly administration meeting. And Violet wonders at he way this woman has thawed her. Mr Spratt eyes her wearily as she chortles to herself, trying at the last moment to turn it into a cough. Her eyes linger on the array of flowers in the basket, and the vast assortment that she can choose from to add to the arrangement. She wonders what Isobel will say about the arrangement this time. And then she scolds herself, for feeling as giddy as a school-girl.

Returning home early from the meeting, Isobel can see Violet in the garden cutting a new bunch of flowers from her garden. She slows on her walk back, still hidden from Violet’s sharp eyes, as she takes in the unfiltered joy on the normally stoic woman’s face. She wonders what Violet could be thinking of to make her smile so unabashedly. She’ll have to interrogate the woman about it later when they’re alone. Isobel treasures the pieces of Violet that she experiences all to herself. These are the pieces that Violet hides from so many of those around her. It’s in the tender kisses that they share late at night on their own. She knows that the rest of the Crawley family know exactly what Violet is like, that she can be impossible. But underneath that hard exterior is a tenderness that Isobel gets to bask in everyday. More than that, it’s in the fresh blooms that Violet cuts for her, that she gruffly shuffles away from after Isobel has thanked her for them. It’s in the way she brushes her hair in the evening, or in the way she sarcastically allows her to win at Gin. Isobel is like a magpie, collecting the precious glimpses of shiny love as Violet unwittingly shows them to her, holding them dear within the depth of her heart. She knows that Violet had been weary of her moving in, fearing the gossip that would most certainly follow. But Isobel had grown tired of living a part, having to visit daily. And Danker had tried to catch them in the act during those visits, interrupting them with non-sensical questions from an oblivious Spratt. No one knew they were lovers, simply two old fuddy-duddies sharing the bed for warmth, that was what they had informed Danker and the rest of the family. Starving off the presence of loneliness and grief, whether or not anyone believed them was questionable. With the arrival of Spring Isobel was concerned that Violet would try and make her keep up pre-tenses by moving to another room. Already, they had decided that touching in public or in front of the family was to be tempered. A simple touch of each other’s hands could have them both blushing. But they had the nights, and as separate as they had to be from one another during the day, they still had each other.

Isobel watched as Violet dismissed Spratt with the basket full of flowers, and when Spratt was far enough away she called Violet to her underneath the Willow tree. “What on earth are you doing here?” Violet asked, “Were you spying on me?” With a smirk, Isobel says, “I wasn’t aware that gathering flowers for me was a secret.” And with patented gruffness Violet tries to look affronted at the accusation. “Yes, well…” Violet starts uncharacteristically bashful, eyes widening as Isobel takes her hands in her own, “Isobel, please we’re in the open.” Isobel’s heart quickens at the innocence in Violet’s voice. “No one can see us under here Violet,” pulling her companion further into the tree foliage. When she finally has Violet against the tree she makes sure to look around before kissing her. She can feel Violet quiver against her, and the thought that she can make this woman weak in anyway makes her giddy. Yes, they aren’t allowed to touch in public anymore, but she’ll be damned if she’s giving this up. Their kisses in the dark are not always tender, but this kiss shakes them both. No one sees them under the willow tree. And, even when they make their way up to the house, they do so arm in arm, unashamed of the love they have for one another.

Fin


End file.
